


The Stories We're Told

by DaisytheDoodleDog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But Cas kicks ass, Can't see eachother, Carry On Quarantine, Cas's celestial stories, Castiel being a badass, Dean being stubborn as hell, Destiel - Freeform, Did I Mention Angst?, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enjoy!, Flashback to hell, Flashbacks, Freezing, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Just another torture fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Purgatory, NO character deaths, Overprotective Cas, Overprotective Dean, Rowena Ships it, Sam Ships It, Sam saves the day, Scars, Separations, Stars, Torture, Trapped, Truth or Dare, frantic Sam, just pain pain pain, no spoilers though, not sorry, takes place during season 15, with a little wholesome content to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisytheDoodleDog/pseuds/DaisytheDoodleDog
Summary: A routine hunt gone wrong, Dean and Castiel find themselves trapped in rooms specifically designed for them. Unable to see each other, their only connection is through a small vent in the wall that allows them to talk. With so many unspoken things between them, the physical torture could never be as painful as those unspoken things trapped in isolation, much like them, waiting to break free. But maybe that's what their captors wanted: to break them apart in every way possible. Destiel!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 34
Kudos: 131





	1. The Room Where it Happened

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! And welcome to a multi-chapter story that came to mind. This story so far will be five chapter, but if I feel the need to make it longer, I will. The first chapter is short, but the next ones will be longer, promise! Also, I promise that the sotry is better at the summaries, mainly because I suck at summaries.
> 
> This story will update every Sunday, so make sure to check back in! this gives me lowkey quarantine vibes, but we're rolling with it. Enjoy and leave a comment!
> 
> You can also find stories of mine on FF.Net.

**Chapter One - The Room Where it Happened**

When Castiel came to, bleary eyed and head ringing like a bomb went off, he could barely comprehend his surroundings. He rubbed his forehead and sat up from the cold concrete floor and glanced about. He was in a room. It wasn’t large, about ten by ten feet at most. There was a single light at the top, swinging down with an old light bulb that flickered now and again. There was a large steel door, with no windows and no slots. The rest of the room sat empty. Well… except for the glowing Enochian symbols that covered the room floor to ceiling. 

The symbols, Castiel soon realized were tied to his grace, intertwining a barbed wire in with each essence of his grace, pinning it to the ground. He couldn’t break out and worst of all, he couldn’t heal himself. 

He wasn’t particularly injured, a few bruises here and there, but he had become used to them by now. The warding however was so tightly bound to him, his chest heaved from the restriction on his lungs and his head felt too heavy for his shoulders to carry him. It was no doubt uncomfortable, but he had been through worse.

**...**

Dean’s head held a pounding rage, like a wildfire exploding through his ears and deep behind his eyes. It was the light trickle of blood tickling his cheek that finally caused him to stir. The concrete was cool on his heated face, but not enough to douse the wildfire. He blinked slowly and sat up, feeling the slash on his forehead as it throbbed. He glanced about to see a lone light from the ceiling and bare concrete walls. There was a large steel door, with what looked like a wide mail slot. There was an army cot on the floor, but no pillows or blankets. Dean also took notice of his clothes; he had been stripped of shoes and his normal flannel and jacket, his t-shirt the only layer left. His weapons were gone, his car keys were gone, and his head hurt like a bitch. 

Dean bounced up despite the pain rippling through him and pounded on the door.

“Hey! Let me out! Hello? Hey, I’m in here!” 

“Dean?”

“Cas? Oh thank god!” Dean ran to the wall where the angel's voice came through, pressing his hands against the concrete. A small vent, which he had not noticed before was on this wall, and while he couldn't see anything, he could hear Cas.

“Dean? Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Dean let out a sarcastic laugh with a sigh of relief following.

“I’m fine.” There was a short pause, one that caused Dean’s breath to hitch in his throat. He suddenly became very conscious of all the pain coursing through him like an angry storm cross firing through his nerves.

“Liar.” Cas hissed through the vent, standing and pressing his hand against the concrete. He took a shaky breath and whispered a weak apology, his head falling in shame and the always lingering guilt. “I can’t heal you.” he said a little louder. The guilt in his tone had struck Dean with an achy sigh. He wanted to respond, to tell Cas not to worry, to not feel guilty, but he knew it would be like talking to a wall… literally.

“Do you remember what happened before this?” Dean called, moving away from the wall and glancing around the room for a way out. It was completely sealed. He winced in pain, stifling a groan, trying to keep his pain unnoticed by Cas. He didn’t want to worry Cas anymore than he already had.

“Just… Just a routine hunt. Run in with a demon…. Then nothing.” Dean nodded in response, even if Cas was unable to see it. Dean scanned the room curiously, taking note of the specifically laid out stuff about the room. Sam would get to them. He had to have known where they were, right? This was just supposed to be some routine hunt in Colorado… but then again, when was anything just a routine hunt?

“They were nice enough for the mattress.” He huffed out angrily, kicking the cot. Cas cocked his head from the other side, looking around the room again, feeling the coiling of his chest, tightening his breathing and restricting his movement. The symboling was advanced, that much he knew. He leaned in closer to one symbol in particular that was undeniably recognizable. The symbol related directly to his power, meant to disarm only his specific grace. This room had been meant for him. His pressed on the symbol and it continued its steady pulsing glow, a silent hiss from its power only reinforced Cas’s thinking.

“I don’t have a mattress. Just an empty room filled with Enochian.” he finally responded. The words came out like daggers dipped in the poison of fear that spread through the bloodstream within seconds.

“Do… Do you have a slot in the door?” There was a long pause before Castiel answered.

“No… And the Enochian in here, it’s meant for me, and only me. These symbols, they’re advanced” Dean scowled and collapsed on the cot with a frustrated curse. A horrible ripple in his muscles told him of the blackened bruise on his tailbone. The fight with the demon in the warehouse had been a nasty one.

“Cas, I think these rooms were meant for me and you. Somebody was after the two of us.”

“Great. Just add them to the list.” Dean smiled softly at the sarcastic retort, staring at the grainy concrete floor. He closed his eyes, the pain accumulating behind his eyes and nose from the heavy blow. He had a concussion, a slash in his head, but the judge of his sluggish and swollen ankle, it was sprained. But by the newness of the blood that surfaced, they couldn’t be far from the warehouse where they had encountered the band of demons. Sam would have to know that they were in trouble. He’d come for them, if of course, Dean and Cas hadn’t found a way out.

But as satisfying as stabbing the living daylights out of those demons was, he was beyond exhausted. His body wanted to sleep, his head heavy on his neck, but stubbornly he forced himself to stay awake, his focus so intense he hadn’t realized how much time had passed. 

“Dean? We’re going to get out of here.” Cas whispered, his head close to the vent. Dean sighed heavily, pressing his forehead against the wall with exhaustion. He barely had the strength to open his mouth to reply, but somehow, he knew Cas heard him.

**...**

Cas’s screams rang through the vent and swarmed his room like bees. It had only been a day or so since they woke up in the chambers, but at some point Dean had drifted off from the blood that oozed through his head. The sharp grunts and curses, muffled by blood pooling in his mouth, were the sounds that broke the night and woke Dean up. A bloody patch had formed on the cot, but he ignored it as another scream rang through the vent and penetrated his room. 

“Cas?!” Dean shouted, desperation and rage filling his distant call from the other side of the wall. Another scream was his response. Dean sprang to his feet and pounded on the steel door, kicking and hitting his fists until they were bruised as he screamed, “Leave him alone you son of a bitch! Cas!” He turned and then began to pound on the wall and vent, spit flying from his mouth as he hollered, but his voice soon went empty and his hands throbbed from the constant contact with the stone. Another scream followed by a curse erupted through the air, and then… silence. The sound of screeching metal and the thud of a door being shut was the only relief.

“No! Cas! Cas! You with me? Come on man, talk to me!” The silence was worse than his aching hands, as he reached out and touched the stone wall. Cas groaned and raised his head from the ground. Glowing slashes across his bloodied chest and stomach revealed contact with an angel blade. And his insides burned, as if his blood had been set on fire. Melted angel blades had been injected in his veins, making his whole body seize up in a pain no angel had ever experienced.

“D-dean?” He croaked out, holding his stomach. The light flickered above him as he curled himself up on the floor, blood smudges painting the cool concrete that provided him little relief from the fire in his nerves. He exhaled in a small wheeze that left his chest heavy and sore, like he had inhaled smoke. His brain pounded against his skull as the blood struggled to get oxygen from the blurring room into his body. He brought his gaze to the vent, Dean’s frantic voice scarcely comprehendable. 

“Cas? Cas, talk to me. About anything. Just focus on me, on my voice.” Cas’s breath was heavy and raspy as he crawled to the edge of the wall and placed his bloody hand on the wall across from Dean, leaving an imprint.

“I-i-i _it_ hurt me. I don’t know who or _what_ it was... Put something in my veins… I”

“Shh. Cas, something else man, talk about something else. Anything.”

“ _Hurt_.” The word was worse than any scream or any concussion or any bloody fists. Dean sat down in front of the wall, ignoring his growling stomach and throbbing head and focused on Cas.

“Okay. I’ll talk then. Umm… A story maybe? Shit I don’t know. Okay, umm…” Dean picked at his brain for anything. He could have even gone for a children’s book he knew by heart after reading them over and over to Sam. Cas wouldn’t have known the difference. But the more Dean thought about it, the more his head throbbed with so many unspoken things. God he hoped Sammy could find them soon. So Dean, even never being very creative, took a deep shaky breath and made up a story, one word at a time.

“Once, a long time ago, there was a portal. It wasn’t large, but it had this blue glow to it and if you got too close, it would suck you in. Nobody knew what was behind this portal. Some warned that hell was on the other side. Others told tales of a haven, and some, simply denied its existence. But there was always this one person who was mesmerized by it. He wasn’t anything special, but the portal always called out to him in a way he never understood. One day, he decided to walk up to it and touch it.” 

Dean paused, inhaling deeply to steady his racing head and ease the pain shooting through him. If there was a word to describe everything that had happened in his life, he couldn’t possibly find one to match, but at that moment he could only refer to himself as a fool. A fool for falling into traps, a fool for making deals, a fool that he left him easy pickings for the corrupted. But most of all, the regret, the guilt, and this foolishness, he believed were the reason he drowned himself in the bluest of oceans.

“D-dean? Are you still there?” Dean sighed and nodded softly, his mouth almost too dry to speak. Cas was on the other side of that wall, pain erupting through him and all Dean could do was think about himself. Dean mentally cursed at himself, he was nothing more than a selfish failure that couldn’t even help his best friend in the simplest of ways. As if reading his mind, Castiel said something that shocked himself out of his own head.

“Dean, you did nothing wrong. I know you’re not going to listen, but please don’t blame yourself. You want to help get my mind off all this? Then please, _please_ don’t blame yourself.” A tear slid down Dean’s cheek. It was silent as the tear fell to the concrete to disappear forever. But the contact it made with the ground felt like the loudest sound in the world to Dean, as waves of that self hatred poured out in the form of invisible tears he refused to show. Cas hung his head from the other side. He couldn’t hear Dean, but he could feel the power from his emotions hitting him like a freight train. If there was anything worse than that negative emotion, that hatred, Cas feared, Dean wouldn’t be able to take it any longer.

“Cas- I’m so sorry, I can’t do much.”

“Just like you said Dean and we’ll be okay. Keep talking.”


	2. When a Soul Laughs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to chapter 2! I did say this was going to be longer, didn't I? I absolutely loved this chapter and I hope you all do too! Thank you so much for reading, and if you have time to comment, that would make my whole day!
> 
> Oh, you all thought this would be a wholesome chapter with some cute destiel bonding... you all thought wrong. It all goes downhill from here, but then again, I guess it's how you look at the story. Will Dean ever stop being so stubborn? *correction* will I ever stop writing Dean to be so stubborn??? Probably not.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy and I'll see you next Sunday for chapter 3!

**Chapter Two- When a Soul Laughs**

It must’ve been three… no maybe four days? Dean wasn’t sure. There was no construct of time in the room, just himself and his inner demons and Cas’s gravelly voice or keep him company. Once a day, a small paper bag was fed through the slot in the door, with a single bottle of water and an apple or bag of chips. Dean left them to rot next to the door, far too cautious to eat the food in case it had been poisoned. But still his stomach cried out in its dull pain, longing for something to eat, his energy being depleted quickly day by day. Still, Cas and him talked through the long silence, but with so many questions left unanswered, the sense of hope dwindled with the sunset they could not see.

“How are you doing Dean?” Cas’s voice was quiet, soothing almost, as if Cas was weary of waking him. Dean had been laying on his cot, not sleeping, just staring at the ceiling, letting his imagination take over, stories running through his head to pass the time. He noticed that each story-line playing through his head, almost like a lucid dream, seemed to become farther and farther from his grasp of control as his mind wandered and he pushed back an optimism.

“I’m okay Cas. you?” Cas was quick to respond, the lack of hesitance in his answer a definitive reaction of a lie, too easily slipped off the tongue.

“Fine.”

“Aren’t we just a bunch of liars, huh?” Cas snorted on the other side and Dean stood and pulled himself over to the wall and slid down. For the first time, he smiled softly to himself and leaned his head back against the wall. “Man would it have killed them to give me a book or _something_? I’m so bored!” Cas chuckled softly, gently resting himself against the wall, feeling the light vibrations that Dean’s voice gave off. Only angels could feel such frequencies, but there was something about the specific vibration of Dean’s voice that Cas was always attracted to. Even when he was beyond furious and full of hatred, when he cursed and shouted and threw things, the vibrations from his sound always held the sincerity and intensity that Cas loved.

“Do you think Sam knows where we are yet?” Dean asked suddenly, concern lacing his voice. He picked at the scab healing nice on his hand reopening the tiny wound. If he kept picking at it, it would no doubt scar, but just add it to the list of scars to count.

Cas sighed softly, but the weight of it always made Dean nervous. Cas was a ball of pensive energy, like some ancient philosopher consulting with the stars. Even as gentle as he was, it could not be ignored the power within him. But Dean realized that was something to be admired about Heaven’s warrior. Cas had the most gentle touch, light and feathery, but filled with a brutal honesty of how small Dean really was in this world. And yet, it made him feel all the more powerful to know that this celestial being was gazing at him with the contentment, as if the angel felt safe in his vicinity.

“I don’t know Dean. I’m sure he’s on it. He knew our last location.” Cas tried to reassure him, but both of them could hear the uneasiness in his voice, and that chewed away at their sense of security.

“And we still don’t know who this is?”

“I certainly don’t. I haven’t seen them since…” Cas trailed off, his voice heavy with fear and the lingering agony that still made his nervous system send ripples of fire through him.

“Hey Cas, I’m not letting that son of a bitch do that to you again!” They both knew Dean couldn’t do anything, he was utterly powerless and that filled Dean with a disgusting guilt and shame he could not shake even in his nightmare filled sleep. But still, the gesture was nice, Cas supposed. Dean turned and touched the wall, wishing he could at least Cas, for just a moment. He wanted to take in his big blue eyes and pink lips that curled slightly in the softest smile Dean had ever laid eyes on. Dean wanted to see his stupid trench coat, and undone blue tie. He wanted to see Cas’s sex hair, tussled and wild and no matter how much Dean had tried to smooth it down before, it simply would never comply. He denied the thoughts about Cas quickly, filling the familiar rustle in his stomach as if it was some school girl crush. Dean outwardly made a face, because _ew no, not Cas!_ But just like the years of lingering hugs and staring contest neither of them wanted to win, and those sweet moments of silence in the car, the feeling never really went away. It would always manifest and at times like these, something within grew like a hurricane revolving in his chest knocking the wind out of him and sending tumbling down a path he couldn’t leave. He supposed he didn’t want to leave the path that led him to the shore of the bluest of oceans.

Dean _needed_ a distraction, and by the uncomfortable silence from the other side of the wall, Cas needed a distraction too.

“Wanna play a game?”

“I hardly see how that would be feasible Dean.”

“No, I mean, like 20 questions or Truth or Dare.”

“What’s truth or dare?” Dean covered his mouth to try not to laugh. How had he not taught Cas this game before. It seemed trivial in retrospect with their very busy and dangerous lives, but suddenly from in here, things were put into perspective.

“It’s easy. I’ll ask you, truth or dare and you’ll pick one and then I’ll ask you a question if you say truth that you gotta answer, or I’ll dare you to do something if you say dare. I’ll start. Cas, truth or dare?” There was a long pause from the other side, as Cas carefully considered his two options. This was a stupid game, he thought, but with no better way to pass the time and fear writhing inside him that he would be tortured again, he replied.

“Truth.”

“Umm… What’s the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you?” Dean smirked and while Cas could not see it, he knew that he was smiling. Cas rolled his eyes, but played along.

“I can’t say I’ve been embarrassed.” Dean raised an eyebrow. There was another soft sigh from Cas. “I guess, embarrassing or close to that emotion I presume, would be the place you took me with that Chasity girl. The one with the absent father who hated his job at the post office.” Dean’s head hit the wall as he laughed, remembering that moment clearly. It was the first moment that Dean realized, Cas was his best friend. Dean had never had a best friend before.

“Yeah, that was… that was a blast.”

“I suppose it wasn’t all bad though. I liked the part where you laughed. I didn’t understand what was so funny about the whole situation, but it made you laugh, and I like to see you laugh.” There was silence for a while, both of them forgot they were playing the game, but the silence was a comforting one. The air was warm and not so empty as if felt before. Then Cas suddenly snapped back from his thoughts.

“Truth or dare, Dean.” Dean huffed out, before replying with “truth.”

“What is your favorite memory?” Cas asked softly, sitting down criss crossed from the wall.

“Cas, the question is supposed to be revealing a deep truth. Like crushes or embarrassing things, or dark secrets.”

“ _My question_ still stands, Dean.” Dean couldn’t help but smile at the purity of Cas. He was a roaring thunderstorm that had carved symbols in his chest against himself and his own kind, had the power twenty times an atomic bomb, and his glare was enough to kill an entire army. Yet he was the gentle summer breeze that soothed the skin from the brutal sun. He was caring of every living organism. Dean remembered when he had jumped into traffic, just to make sure a duck could cross safely. He had a respect for every tree, every bee, and every rabbit that crossed his path. He even talked to them sometimes. When they weren’t in the bunker, Cas would take Dean through the woods to talk to the trees. Cas specifically loved the pine trees, he’d greet each one as if it had its own name, own distinction, and each responded to him with vibrations that only an angel could sense.

Dean supposed that wasn’t his favorite memory in all his life, but it was his favorite memory _with Cas_.

“I like it when we go on those nature walk things. It’s cool to see you talk to the trees. I guess that’s my favorite memory- with you at least.”

“Well of course I have to talk to them. You wouldn’t ignore someone who asks how you are, would you?” Dean cocked his head, confused by this statement, but rolling with it, Dean nodded.

“Yeah, I guess. What do they say?”

“Oh lots of things. Mostly you humans wouldn’t understand. It’s mostly chemical signals to the other trees, but angels speak all languages, so I can understand them. But when I see them, they always say hello. And I learned that it's rude not to say hello back.” Dean sat up slowly, arching his back in a stretch.

“Truth or Dare, Cas.” Dean whispered, the humorous mood turning to something soft and gentle, like the trees.

“I’ll choose dare this time.” Cas answered quickly. Dean smirked, remembering when he played truth or dare in the few days of highschool he had, playing under the bleachers with the girls, kissing as dares, and revealing crushes as truths. He also remembered the boy a girl dared him to kiss. He had chickened out, saying he didn’t swing that way and flipped off the girl who had dared him. He had moved two days later, but he never forgot the face of the boy he denied kissing. He had been a cute guy, and so yeah, maybe Dean did steal glances at him throughout the day and get jittery when they talk in their highschool chem class. What did Dean know, he was just a kid. This was different now, of course... But was it?

“...I dare you to do a cartwheel.” Dean snickered, standing facing the wall. Sure maybe it was a childish dare, but the image of the overly stiff angel doing summersaults filled him with that giddy childish happiness.

“I don’t know how.” This made Dean laugh harder at the “little kid demeanor” the angel radiated.

“I’ll teach you! Stand on one side of the room, put your hands in the air, and go down and just kind of swing around.” Dean winced, remembering his sprained ankle and sat back down on his cot. He heard Cas grunt a few times.

Cas did the cartwheel… sort of. He laughed to himself, and grunted when he did it. If Dean had seen it, it would have been the absolutely worst cartwheel he’d ever seen, but he couldn’t see it, which only made it funnier.

“Okay, okay I did it.” Cas panted, the Enochian binding to his grace tighter and tighter until he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. His breath labored, he sat back down against the wall. “Truth or dare Dean.” He smiled to himself, finding refuge in the simple little game.

“Definitely truth.” Dean smiled, and for a second, the game was working. He had forgotten about the situation the angel and him were in. A chill went down his spine as he thought this.

“I don’t know what to ask Dean.”

“How about, geez I don’t know. Ask something personal, or like my favorite color.” Dean added, trying to deride the conservation from entering uncharted territory. But of course, with Cas, everything was uncharted territory.

“Oh… umm…” There was a sudden change in atmosphere as an eerie silence washed over them. Cas thought about his question trying to find meaning behind a question, but Dean had said to ask something that felt pressing to Cas. Sure there were many questions that came to mind, but two in particular stood out. One of them he knew, he could never ask as long as he lived, and the other burned a hole inside him, a raging fire that filled him with the overwhelming sense of guilt that he carried everytime he looked at Dean. He stumbled over his two choices and concluded with the latter.

“...Do you regret meeting me? Do you regret keeping me around?” The silence was suddenly uncomfortable and it felt like the temperature in Dean’s room had dropped fifteen degrees. He grimaced at the broken tone of Cas’s voice. It was like sitting in a room full of candles, each one being blown out one by one. At first you wouldn’t notice the first few that went dark, but soon enough you would find yourself shrouded in darkness. Cas’s voice, for as much light as it could hold, was full of the darkness and grief of the missing stars. Such a shift in tone made Dean’s heart jump and settle deep in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure what was worse, that Cas thought he had to ask this, or that Dean wasn’t sure how to answer.

There were amazing memories that he could look back on, there were the times Cas saved his ass, but there were also times they betrayed each other, kicked the crap out of each other, tried to _kill_ each other. Dean was angry, a raging tornado and Cas was a house of cards. There were more regrettable moments with Cas, than any other person in his life. He regretted every fight, every betrayal, every time he let himself trust Cas a little too much. There were times where he would always feel the guilt for chasing Cas off, not caring enough… not… _no_ , he was not going to let his mind go _there_. But even through it all, they still held the profound bond Dean couldn’t deny, he still felt the magnetic pull of his soul to the grace glowing brightly amongst all the blackened souls of hell. He could still feel the warmth that illuminated from the grace and still was held in his eyes every time the angel looked at Dean. He supposed that he found his answer to Cas’s question.

“No Cas. I would never take back the day I met you. Or the years that followed. You are my best friend, who, through thick or thin always did what you had to to protect your family. That means a lot coming from an angel who has Heaven for a family… Do you regret staying?”

“...Sometimes.” Dean exhaled and this time he could see his breath. Even if he didn’t want to ask any further questions, the question still escaped, an unsettling feeling in his chest beat harshly against his ribcage.

“Why?” Another chill went down Dean’s spine.

“I’m a burden Dean.” Cas paused for a moment, hesitant. Goosebumps ran up Dean’s arms with a shiver. “I’ve caused so many problems, led so many astray, I have wronged you- and Sam, but mostly I failed the one promise I made myself: Protect you. I feel that maybe, it would have been easier to uphold that promise if I stayed away.” His voice shattered the night into a million broken pieces of a mirror that reflected everything that was left unspoken, everything Dean wanted to say.

“Cas, how could you say that? Cas you’ve made mistakes, but we all have. You have protected me all these years, you have healed all my wounds, eased my nightmares and fought with every ounce of your being for free will. Cas, I need you more than anything, you-... is it getting cold in here?” Dean shivered, folding his arms into his chest. He exhaled, his teeth giving out a rough chatter.

“Dean, you don’t need to change the subject. Thank-”

“I’m not changing the subject Cas. It’s really friggin’ cold in here. I can see my breath.” Dean blew out forcefully, a little foggy cloud manifesting in front of him and disintegrating quickly. Dean touched the tip of his nose, but it was ice cold.

“Dean? The temperature isn’t changing.” Dean shook his head, pulling his arms inside his short sleeve shirt and folding in his knees. His ears and fingertips stung bitterly and suddenly he was shaking. His teeth clicked so hard together, that Cas could hear it, springing up, near frantic.

“Dean! I think whoever's doing this is lowering the temperature of your room.” Dean tried to respond but all that came out was a shaky exhale as he felt the blood freeze at the tips of his fingers. Cas looked around the room in a frenzy completely unsure of what to do. In his best attempts to do something, _anything_ , he began to pound on the door.

“Hey! Don’t do this to him! Do anything to me, but not him!” Dean tried to call out to the angel but no words could escape as he curled up. The temperature took another sudden drop and the world felt heavy on his eyelids. Dean’s teeth chattered so hard his gums hurt, as his body violently shivered against the idea of going into hypothermia, but his body’s shutdown would be inevitable. The temperature of the room caused icy particles to form on the corners of the room, but by now the temperature didn’t lower any further. That didn’t matter because Dean’s body was far from an easy recovery, with skin a blue palor, and words unable to rise up his throat as the cold air he took in stung his insides like dry ice stuffed inside his lungs. He curled himself up on his cot, arms tucked inside his shirt and head buried in his chest. He was going to die like this. Part of him just wanted it to be over. But then came the voice through the wall, the flickering light in the darkness, the single lit match that held no shadow.

“Dean. Don’t speak, just pray to me. Can you hear me?”

_Yes_. God, this took him back to the prayer in Purgatory where on his knees his head had screamed for Cas to be alive. There were so many more things he wanted to say that day, but as usual, he never did. He wanted to say things now, but again, something just wouldn’t let him. He squeezed his eyes shut and as his body slowed its shivering, he felt his heart race. His body was shutting down. He was going to die.

“Okay. Okay. Can you move? I know it's hard, but bring your cot to the wall. It’s warmer there.” Dean wasn’t sure what he meant by that, the entire room felt like the antarctic, but he obliged, forcing himself from his little curled up positions and dragging himself and the cot towards the wall with the vent. He cursed out as he collapsed, unable to feel his fingers and toes.

_Cas? You still there?_ Even his prayer held a shakiness to it, like his mind was caving on him and he was slipping away from his grasp on life.

“I’m here Dean. I’m here.” Cas pressed his hand to the wall, and on the other side, Dean did the same, and even with the glowing Enochian symbols doing their best, power surged in Cas, a blue vibrating hum blowing through him like white energy, pulsing even through the concrete into a subtle heat that Dean could feel against his palm. The symbols in Cas’s room ripped and teared at him, like his molecules were being spilt from fighting against the magic, but he fought it anyway.

Cas bit back a scream in pain as the horrid rain of fire hit every single nerve and his bloodstream with an invisible poison that tore through him like acid. He bit his lip so hard that it bled, but he had to do something.

_Tell me a story Cas. Keep my mind off… all this. Tell me a story about the things you’ve seen._

Cas sighed and gave an eager nod, anything he could do to help his human. He put their past conversation on pause and cleared his throat. Even through it all, Cas spoke of wonders and beauties in a horrible, corrupt world. And once again he was the light, the little flickering candle that saved Dean.

“I remember when I heard the first human laugh. She was such a tiny thing. Just a few months old, and her people, while really held no language outside of grunts and the primitive body language of apes, heard her that day. Her mother had been breaking some twigs for some of the earliest fires. She had thought it was the funniest thing in the world. And she laughed. It was, at the time, the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. The other angels had turned their heads, only waiting for the big moments that would be the set up for the destinies to come. But I hung around that girl. I healed her wounds, I watched her laugh and grow and the people around her discover something as seemingly simple as happiness. While at the time, all humans ever searched for was food, shelter, and mates, in this endless cycle that never seemed to get them anywhere, suddenly, they were in search of her laugh. They did all kinds of things to make her laugh. It was I believe, the true beginning of happiness and humans devout search for it throughout their lifetimes. I think that, for me, was the most memorable moment in my celestial life… that was before of course, I met the humans that would teach me what happiness meant. What freedom and feelings and truth was.”

There was a long silence that worried Castiel, fearing Dean’s body had shut down. But the soft chuckle from the other side of the wall, told him the story of his being.

_Thank you Cas._ Dean prayed, before slipping away into a frozen sleep. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep by any means, but the calming voice from the other side had told him the stories of light in all the darkness, ignited the moon and let its sickle smile gaze down at them in the truth of their lives and meaning that the wall held between them. And all the wall couldn’t stop between a hunter of monsters and angel of the sky. Cas knew in that moment they would be alright. This wasn’t the end of the story. Not now.

He simply wouldn’t let that happen.

He let the gentle sound of the first human’s laugh replay in his head like a sweet melody of some familiar song that he had heard before off in the distance, different from the bombs and wars that melded together into the simple moments of his very long life. He decided that there was only one human who’s laugh could surpass the giggle of that nomadic girl from thousands of years ago. Where things were simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I am so excited about where the story is going and I hope you are too! Until next time,  
> -Daisy


	3. The Scars that Painted Our Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!! Welcome to chapter 3! Thank you so much for reading and I hope this helps in our current quarantine situations! This chapter is an intense one, but I’m so excited for it! And guess what? Our boy Sammy comes in next episode for all those Sam girls out there!
> 
> I’m not going to lie, I’ve written a LOT of angst in my time, and normally I don’t show any emotion on my face as I’m writing those scenes (I know I’m a psychopath) and this may have been the worst I’ve ever written. I actually made myself sad by this. BUT guys stick with me, the ending is gonna be so wholesome and cute
> 
> A few quick notes before you dive in though! Keep in mind that I think that the empty wouldn’t come for Cas necessarily at this point if Destiel went cannon, I think with Chuck still running wild, Cas wouldn’t feel truly happy until he knew that his boys were safe. (Jack included). Second, there is a part in this chapter, no spoilers, but if you are having trouble picturing what it looks like, it looks like “splinching” from Harry Potter but like… 5 times worse. If you know what I mean by that then… oof. We got a cliffhanger this episode plus a little emotional trauma on the side, but I promise there is a light at the end of the tunnel (And I promise it’s not hellfire.)

**Chapter Three- The Scars that Painted Our Stories**

The temperature had recovered in Dean ‘s room a handful of hours later, but eerily, they knew it could only get worse from that point. They weren’t wrong, the following two weeks in the room had been torturous. A handful of times was Cas tortured, angel blade marks littering his skin with its illuminating blue glow. Dean too, had been beaten up, for no reason at all. There was no questioning, no seen motive, other than to break them. Their captor would shut off oxygen in Dean’s room, just long enough to knock him out, and when he woke, Cas was screaming for him, thinking he was dead. Just when Dean finally gave in and ate, he didn’t receive another serving for eight days. His stomach growled in its constant dull pain, hovering over him like the endless grey sky that would never clear. He’d pinch his sides and huff out tired sighs trying to fight against the uncomfortable movement in his stomach. 

Dean was being weakened, and whoever had done this, was watching it slowly disintegrate what little hope still resided in him. Dean had called out to Cas in sleep, his dream filled sleep, just as starving of food as his waking state, hallucinations of food that made his mouth water and would wake him with the cruelty of the foul smelling room. But his dreams would also follow the familiar paths that the Impala once took, now sitting abandoned at some warehouse, forgotten. But these roads now took Dean down the path of his own mind, playing dangerous games on his grip on reality, with manifestations of people who wear long since dead, talking and calling for him, but as soon as he reached out, their souls vanished and he was left in the cloud of his own lonely darkness. But then he’d call out to Cas in that darkness, and suddenly Cas would be there to ease the plaguing nightmares into a pale blue sky, with the warmth of the sun once again kissing his freckles. But then of course, a shiver would run down Dean’s spine and he’d know it wouldn’t last. 

Cas would disappear from his dreams, and Dean would scream for him, but images of the bloodied angel, dying and vessel rotting, much like his beloved Impala, left behind without the slightest idea as to how it all happened. The flashes would pass so fast, Dean could barely comprehend them, but he shouted and screamed and cursed, frantic apologies for all that he had done to angel. The guilt would stirr him from his sleep and he’d snap his head up, suddenly seeing the concrete walls. And while he couldn’t see Cas, Cas was on the other side of the wall, his clamped against the sides of his head, eyes squeezed shut and tears resting on his eyelids as the endless agony of Dean’s screaming thoughts from his sleep that had seeped into prayers that Cas could do nothing to address. 

“Cas?” Dean whispered, still shaking from his nightmare, anxiously picking at the scab on his hand. The edges of it had begun to scar over, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to pick at it. Scars were littered over his skin, the one forming being from a simple accident of Dean hastily sharpening a blade and slicing the thin skin between his index finger and thumb. That had only been a couple days before they were taken.

God what was taking Sam so long? Dean almost forgot that he had whispered for Cas as his thoughts drifted to his brother and the clearly failing attempt at a rescue. Dean’s face contorted in rage as he threw his hands up in the air and vigorously searched the room for something to throw. Of course the room was empty of anything worthy of throwing, unless he counted the waste bucket, but he’d rather not throw that. 

“Dean?” Cas finally piped up, his voice gentle and easy as came through the vent. Some gentle melody that told the stories of lingering feathers and new beginnings. Even through it all, his voice still held that feeling of lightness, no matter how heavy the tone.

“I’m okay Cas.” Dean’s stomach gurgled loudly as if to say everything was not okay. “I just need to get my mind off all this. I’m starving and all I can think about is a goddamn slice of pie and Sam, and my warm bed and…”

“When we get out, I’ll be sure to bake you a pie. And all the burgers in the world, but only if you save one for me.” Dean chuckled softly, even if his expression was still holding the tension and fear and grief of the loss of hope in his own voice.

“We both know you’d set the kitchen on fire.” Cas stood in the center of the room, after stopping his pacing laps around the confinement. He smiled softly amidst the silence, blinking slowly, imagining that Dean’s fierce green eyes were gazing at him and that he could see the smile on Dean’s face.

“I miss seeing you smile.” Cas said suddenly, surprising himself. Dean’s head shot upwards, his eyes narrow with concern and fear, and maybe even just the smallest spark of hope that the captors tried so hard to blow out like a lone candle unable to light the darkest of rooms. Yet it persisted. Cas bit his lip waiting for the careful response that refused to leave Dean. Dean felt like he was being pulled to shore and dunked beneath the surface all at once. Dean leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cool concrete, easing his migraine which raged like a wildfire from lack of food, lack of a good night’s sleep, and longing of something Dean had always deprived himself of. 

Instead of answering, Dean just breathed, trying to keep slow and steady, telling Cas enough about how he was feeling. Cas pressed his hand against the wall, letting the vibrations of Dean’s breath pulse through the wall and barely touching his skin. Sometimes it paid to be an angel who could feel the lightest of touches, and see what others couldn’t. 

“You never finished your story. About the portal. I’d like to hear how it ends.” Cas whispered. Dean chuckled, barely remembering the story he had told their first day. Oh right, the one about the portal. Truth be told, Dean had no idea where he was going with it, it had been a spur of the moment type of thing. But he took a deep breath, willing to do almost anything to comfort Cas.

“Okay… yeah. So this guy right? He was obsessed with this portal, it seemed to almost follow him, and people would stop and stare everytime the portal would ripe open, thinking it was a trick of the light, or maybe that the man was cursed. But that wasn’t true, at least the man didn’t think so. But he was so curious that the blue swirls ringed with this golden glow, one day, he decided to touch it.” Cas’s smile grew in anticipation like a small child. Dean wished he could’ve seen him so much that it made his chest ache. 

“What happens next?” Cas interrupted, fully intrigued by the stupid story Dean was making up with each passing second. 

“Hold on, I’m getting there!” Dean snipped, but a smile forming on his lips. “So he touched the portal. At first it felt like he was being electrocuted, but when pulled his hand away he suddenly wasn’t home anymore. He was in a white room, that seemed endless. And on all the white walls were framed photos, some older than others, but they all moved, like videos captured on pieces of paper.”

“Like Harry Potter? I watched those movies with Jack, he really loved them.” Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, kinda like that. He came closer to the first picture and realized it was him. It was his memories all captured and relived in the pictures. Not just the happy moments, the sad ones too, but all of them reminded him of the people that shaped him and the events that lead him down this path. His destiny was being written, but only with each decision he made. He was free to write each memory and when the pictures stopped, he saw the spaces for the future. A future he could build on his own terms.”

“And then?”

“Jesus Cas, I don’t know. I’ve got a horrible imagination.”

“Quite the contrary. You made up all that. Your dreams, even though they aren’t always happy, they are always creative. Your mind is beautiful. Most humans have beautiful minds.” Cas saved himself there, but he glanced up at the vent nervously. 

“Thanks Cas. I’m not the best at storytelling though. What do you want me to do? Chop off the guys head for no reason?” Cas smiled.

“That would be quite the plot twist.” They laughed.

“Yeah it would. Alright then. The guy examines a new memory that suddenly appears but he’s never seen it before. It's him but from behind and all of a sudden there’s a figure and with a clean swipe the guys head is chopped clean off. Scared out of his mind he turns around, and there the figure! And whack!” They threw their heads back and laughed, a sound that had not been heard through the vents for weeks. They leaned against the wall, comforted by each other's presence. Their captors couldn’t break them as long as they had each other. They were quiet for a while, just gazing at the blank walls with exhaustion. Cas instead stared at his hands, tilting his head and studying the curved slit that had scarred long ago. He remembered that it had been from an angel blade. After a while, he spoke again.

“I barely remember some of the scars that I have. I know the one on my right hand is from a fight with another angel. But there are so many here that I cannot remember where they came from.” Cas went on about scars and the meaning of them, mostly trying to give Dean’s head a break from his poisonous thoughts that would work their way into the silence, and it worked as Dean began to study his hands and forearms and ankles. So many scars littered his skin all telling their own story of his will for survival, the pain he had endured, and his ability to heal. It provided Dean a little comfort he didn’t realize he could have.

“Yeah, I lose count. I have one on my ankle from a werewolf when I was a kid. Grabbed me as I was running up a set of stairs and left a nasty scar. I got one on my hip from a car accident, and I got the one on my arm from…”

“Michael and the spear.” 

“Yeah…” There is a halting silence with the gruesome flashbacks of Michael. While there weren't many specifics that he remembered while being held captive in his own mind, he distinctly remembered Cas calling out to him. At the time he was so immersed in the imaginary world that he couldn’t comprehend the call, but thinking back on it, he could feel the helplessness of it. The weight and sincerity it held, a sincerity that broke the veil of fabrications. Dean gulped, knowing how he hadn’t treated Cas very well recently. 

Sure, he had apologized in Purgatory, they had been closer since, sharing quiet moments in the bunker where they drank whiskey and laughed. They had nights where Cas and him would lie for hours on their stomachs and watch movies from Dean’s laptop on top of Dean’s bed. Things had gotten better.

But some things hadn’t. Both of them still sucked at communication and everytime Dean was pushed to the brink of letting it all out, he shackled himself to the ground and taped his mouth shut. There was so much more he wanted to say to Cas, but of course, he would never let himself hold onto light for long; the darkness always took it from him.

“Dean? You stopped talking.”

“Sorry Cas, just thinking… What about you? Got any cool scar stories?” Cas twisted and moved, looking for the spots on his imperfect skin where the scars had more meaning then the rest. He found one, one that gave him crippling fear at the remembrance of it. Dean had done it to him. Well, it hadn’t really been Dean, the Mark of Cain held an influence that even the strongest of beings couldn’t handle over time. Dean had left Cas bloodied and near dead on the floor that night, his face caved and his body covered in bruises that even as an angel, would take weeks to heal. But Cas had refused to fight back. He couldn’t hurt him. Even if the beautiful green eyes had turned into something dangerous, something that tore apart the light and life that had reflected his soul in a dance of a flickering candle,

Cas could never hurt Dean. 

“...I’ve got one. Here on my neck, but the coat hides it most of the time. It doesn’t have a story, just a vivid memory.” Dean’s voice was scarcely a whisper, his curiosity getting the best of him. He flipped around to face the wall, sitting criss crossed on the floor and scooted closer to the wall if that was possible, trying to hear Cas’s breath on the other side. 

“What’s the memory?” Cas bit his lip, regretting speaking at all.

“You.” The air went stale. Dean’s curiosity certainly did get the best of him and the sinking feeling in his stomach made him feel nauseous. 

“I did that. I’ve almost killed you, many times. God that’s so fucked up.” Dean responded, the rage in his voice rising like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

“Dean- I’ve almost killed you. But I heal you and don’t leave scars. I don’t want you to feel that reminder. I don’t want you to feel pain. But after my grace depleted, healing doesn’t work the same anymore. I don’t blame you.”

“Well I blame me! Fuck Cas, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything! Every fight, every punch, and I’m sorry I didn’t watch my back and now we’re here!” Dean shouted viciously. He was so overcome by guilt and anger, he couldn’t contain it. He pounded his fist against the wall, Cas grimacing at the sound. It was overwhelming how quickly Dean could go from smiles and laughs to a raging wildfire.

“Dean!” He shouted, instantly creating a wave of silence from both of them. “Stop. That scar leaves a reminder. It reminds me of how I almost lost you, but it reminds me everyday that I got you back. All my scars leave reminders of how precious life is, which angels don’t normally value, but more than that, it shows how far I’m willing to go. It’s like you said, I’m willing to do anything to protect  _ my family _ .” Dean was silent, biting his lip and running a hand through his hair. He still felt guilty, but Cas had eased his racing mind as he so often did.

“We’ve been through a lot together… huh?”

“Yes we have.” Cas choked out a little. He hadn’t meant to stumble over his words, but it happened almost uncontrollably. He sniffed the air, an odd putrid smell, so slight no human could have ever noticed it. He shrugged it off as Dean spoke.

“Cas? I have to talk to you… about Purgatory.”

“Dean- all that, it’s okay.” Cas faltered, his hand cramping. He felt stiff, but he merely thought it was a result from the painful memories that were stirred up. Dean had been horrible to him. And Cas had left. And that was that. But even in the moments in the middle of the night, when Cas would aimlessly wander the Bunker letting his mind plague him with his fears, he could think of that prayer, and just like that, it gave him a sliver of hope. Cas inhaled, his lungs restricting his breath. 

“No, it’s not. I never finished my prayer, because I didn’t know if you could hear me, I wasn’t sure if you were alive or dead, and as soon as I saw you, I just… my mind went blank. I-”

“Dean, it’s  _ fine. _ I-” Cas’s lips suddenly went numb as he coughed. His muscles cramped together as if they were being squeezed into a space far too tiny for his vessel. 

“Cas?”

“Dean? Something’s wrong!”

Indeed, something was wrong. Their captor had begun to fill Cas’s room with a toxic gas, and while as an angel, he wouldn’t feel its effects quite like a human, it had caused his vessel to convulse and curl up, his muscles seizing until he passed out. His world dimmed quickly, and he could hear a voice -it wasn’t Dean’s- something sinister, hissing as the world was too blurry to comprehend shapes and figures that loomed above him. He struggled to call out his muscles so tense they felt like they were being torn apart, but at the same time his lips and jaw felt like jello, and his eyelids were too heavy to keep steady. He did manage one word before he could fight the gas consuming his vessel. “Dean!” He choked out, before he let out a soft groan as his body’s muscle system shut down. Before his eyes shut, stinging from the smoke, a face loomed over his. It looked human, but its power proved to be another being. Cas’s eyes widened, for while he still didn’t know  _ who  _ it was, he knew  _ what  _ it was. His eyes slid shut, as pain came shredding up his right arm and it became far too unbearable for his brain to process. 

Dean jumped from the floor, hearing the noises from the other side. Noises of struggle. He ran to the wall reaching for the vent that was too high above him. He pounded on the wall and then on the door, but he could hear rustles on the other side, he could hear Cas choke and he could hear a voice. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, it was a different language. Dean called out for Cas, yelling and cursing at the disembodied voice, practically spitting fire as he did so.

“Cas! Cas! What the hell are you doing?! Cas talk to me!” Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, the echo of his own voice bouncing off the walls and swarming his head like wasps, each passing second, a hundred stings from the nest.

“Dean!” Cas cried out, the least letter barely there as the world was pulled away from Cas and Dean was left in silence. The voice had disappeared, but so had Cas’s. 

The world faded from view but of course, not before the feeling of flesh being ripped from the body, rippled up his arm in a fire of nerves and sticky heat of blood that made him open his mouth and with a sickening scream. Everything went black.

“Cas! Cas, talk to me! Say anything, make a noise, do something! God, please,  _ please _ . Just say something!” Dean’s eyes were wide with panic, fear ringing the iris of his eyes and the flickering candle burning inside his pupils dimmed with the lack of oxygen. He pounded the wall so furiously his bones screamed in pain and his hands became raw and bloody with each strike. He whipped around and kicked the cot in his helplessness. The dull pain of hunger had disappeared as soon as he couldn’t focus on anything but that last scream from Cas.

“Cas!” He screamed, worse than the lonely calls in purgatory, worse than the dying prayers on his knees, worse than when he watched Cas charge towards Lucifer as the portal closed. Words were never something Dean was good at, but his name called out in the lonely night, the one that shattered the stars, meant more than any speech. 

A high pitched ringing pierced Dean’s ears as everything hit him so fast, he barely knew what was happening. It was like a freight train had slammed into his senses, nearly knocking him off his feet as his world swirled nauseatingly around him. As his ears rang, he went numb, and his ability to comprehend the truth override his ability to feel anything but the overwhelming grief. The feeling of loss hit him in a way he had never dealt with before. And he could do nothing.

Dean denied the thought of Cas being dead for the first half hour, calling to him, praying to him, cursing and shouting, trying to wake him from his unconscious state, but at some point Dean would have guessed three or so hours later, Dean collapsed to his knees, his tears ducts filled with tears and his eyes stinging. He repressed the urge to vomit and pressed his head against the concrete. He longed for the sense of warmth that had pulsed through the wall that night he nearly froze to death, but there was nothing but a haunting chill.

“Cas?” He whispered softly. His voice had become rough and raw, but he did all he could to keep himself talking. “Cas? I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” His voice drifted off as he struggled to swallow. He let the silence envelope him as tears slid down his cheeks at the death of hope, light, and angels. There was nothing left he could do. If his captors had planned on breaking them, they had done so successfully, Dean still had all the fight in the world in him, but his hope had been burned into a pile of ash. If he were to sleep, his dreams wouldn’t be full of the plaguing nightmares, instead they would have been full of water. Just an endless ocean with never a sight of land, and most off all, the darkness that Dean would feel as he was pulled beneath the surface by the great shadows of the sea, never to breathe again.

**...**

Cas might not have been able to scream when he woke, but it didn’t mean he didn’t feel the pain. His body was frozen in place, sprawled across the concrete, unable to feel the warm trickle of blood on his forehead. He was unable to move his lips, he could barely blink as he stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t turn his head which throbbed horribly and his arms were so sliced up, the seized muscle had been raw and open. Blood was everywhere, especially under his arms, where the skin had been slit open long lines twisting from his shoulder down to his hand had been ripped open and in many spots bubbling white blisters formed on the surface of the raw skin, the burns running up his forearm. It was horrific looking. And the pain was indescribable. Cas almost shifted back into unconsciousness, the pain unbearable, but the silence kept him awake. At first Cas wasn’t sure if he still had the ability to hear by the wave of deadly silence that poisoned the air. But then, he could hear the shallowness of his breathe, then he could hear the softness of a voice that seeped through the vent in a tone so broken, the skies had cracked and if it had been a prayer, tears would have filled the eyes of the angels who heard it, the grief crying out into a starless night was the echo of worst fears, and drowning hopes. Cas couldn’t feel it, but a tear slid down his cheek as Dean’s sorrowful voice spoke from beyond the wall that divided them.

“Cas… I- God there’s so much I had to say, so much I had to tell you,  _ pray  _ to you. You stopped me, you stopped me and I stopped myself and look what fucking happened. I screwed up just because I’m a coward and a dick, and everytime I think about you, I get so scared that I toss you away. I always do that…” His voice was hitched in his throat by a silent sob that broke through the rock lodged in his throat, painful and never ending. Dean licked his lips, they were dry and cracked and opened his mouth to continue, but no words came out. He tried to steady his shaking hands, but it was useless. He took a deep breath and continued to pierce the silence with his voice.

“But please, please just this once, come back to me. Come back to me, Cas. I just want to see your smile and those blue eyes and stupid trench coat I can’t live without. I’m so sorry Cas. I’m so sorry that I could never be enough, that I never  _ said  _ enough. God, I’m so sorry that I loved you. It took me so long to say it and now you can never hear it. You are my blue portal, the rift in reality I keep getting pulled into. I love you, I love you, I love you… And I won’t ever regret that. Not anymore… So Cas, if you could annoy the ancient cosmic being for me, just so I can say it to your big blue eyes, I’d do anything in the world to see you… one more time.”

Dean held back another sob, but it was no use. Tears streamed down his face as he closed his eyes and tried to picture Cas smiling as he talked to the trees and laughed with the flowers. He tried to think that Cas was doing that now, but he knew that where Cas was, there was nothing. Cas would never see the outside of the room again. He’d never see another sunset, or sunrise, never see a bumble bee, never see his son or Claire, or his trench coat. 

This of course wasn’t true, Cas was alive, but in that moment, Cas wanted nothing more than to die. Dean’s words had torn him to pieces even more than his shredded arms looked, but his final words had filled Cas with the same flickering candle that had gone out in Dean. This wouldn’t be it for them. Not now. They had so many chapters still left to write together. At least Cas was so concentrated on that thought, he nearly blacked out again.

But Cas fought so hard against sleep as he looked up at the ceiling, dazed with tears blurring his vision. He pooled all the strength he had to move his jaw. He choked and gagged as he opened his mouth, words trying to formulate and spill from his lips in great struggle. He managed a rough whisper, barely touching the air, not even he was able to hear himself say it, but the statement was so embedded in his thoughts that his racing mind screamed it.

  
“ _ I'm here Dean. _ ” Then there was nothing as his insides burned and his body seized up again and his world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Disclaimer, I have 0 research on what the toxic gas was, it was just my imagination running wild. See you next Sunday! Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy


	4. The Memories That Define Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! next chapter is here! first and foremost I would like to apologize for not updating last week, it was finals week and I too mentally exhausted to write a chapter worthy of posting. So I'm sorry, but we are back with a new chapter, and next Sunday will be the final chapter! Let me know if you want more from me!
> 
> Second, after this chapter, there is a slight possibility of doing a part two to this story that is super fluffy and adorable and has to do with... Disney World! let me know if you want something like that, I would love to write that!
> 
> Thank you so much for the wonderful comments! If you live in the U.S, have a great memorial weekend, and to everyone else in the world, I hope you had a wonderful Sunday! Thank you so much for reading, comment greatly appreciated!

**Chapter Four- The Memories that Define Us**

It had been three weeks since Sam had last heard from his brother. The first three days of radio silence hadn’t been too overwhelmingly concerning, if he got distracted with the hunt, it wasn’t unusual. But normally after four days Cas would have called about something, even if it was just a random question about some pop culture reference that Dean had said and he didn’t understand.

But after five days, Sam was officially worried. He left dozens of texts and calls, all ending with the same obnoxious beep and Dean’s lovely little voicemail “This is Dean, leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone.” And when he called Cas, the same thing would happen, except for the voicemail of course, which Cas had yet to figure out and Dean could be heard singing somewhere in the background. Desperate for a response, Sam quickly reached out to Garth, Jody, and Donna, all of who, came up with nothing. Cas and Dean had been missing for at least five days, and now suddenly, the world came crashing down on Sam. 

What normally would have been a 11 hour trip to North Dakota, took Sam only 9 and a half hours to reach. The demon hunt that the hunter and angel had been dealing with, was a rogue demon that Rowena had sent the boys after. She may have kept Hell in a new order that even the demons praised, there were still those whose only loyalty had been Lucifer. It was supposed to be a weekend hunt, so what went wrong? 

Once Sam reached the quiet little town, he ransacked the place, talking to every officer, every motel manager, and every waitress at the unkept little dinners that Dean had no doubt been in. But when he came up with nothing, this only fueled the wildfire inside Sam, and when he found his brother -and Cas- the demon would have wished he had burned in Hell.

He spent almost two weeks there, and when he came up with nothing, Sam had begun to run out of options. He fidgeted with his phone in the front seat of the Impala. He had found the week before, tracking its glitching GPS tracker to an abandoned warehouse. Dean’s phone had been found, crushed into shards of glass and black pieces in the dirt, but the Impala was clean of any other evidence of a fight. The rain fell against the windshield softly, the bitter breeze carrying it across the town, drenching the surrounding town in a cloudy grey. There would be no sunset tonight. Sam started blankly at his phone, shifting uncomfortably in his slightly too small FBI suit. Finally unlocking his phone, he hit the number on the speed dial and listened to the voicemail.

_ “This is Dean, leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone.”  _ Sam scoffed and shut off his phone. As much as his brother irritated him, it was getting eerily quiet in the motel room with having nothing to listen to but the Air conditioning unit. He missed the sound of Doctor Sexy playing on the static motel rooms, and Cas and Dean’s bickering. The worry kept him up at night, making the silence in the darkness all the more empty. Sitting in the car, where at least the patterned drizzle of rain and tires splashing through puddles on the road stopped his thoughts from leaking into the silence. He blinked slowly, tapping his finger against the steering wheel, trying to come up with some brilliant plan, but with his brother and angel disappearing off the face of the earth, Sam had begun to run out of hope. The sudden ringing of his phone startled him, and he snatched off his lap, fumbling with the unlock button, hoping, praying that it was Dean. Rowena’s name came up instead.

“Rowena, hey.”

“Hello Samuel. Any luck?” Sam sighed bitterly.

“No. I have no leads. It’s like they disappeared off the face of the earth.” Rowena was silent for a lingering moment, deep in thought.

“Well the demons are not particularly happy to help.” Sam scoffed, and Rowena chuckled softly on the other line.

“Yeah, well… Maybe… Rowena what if we don’t use Hell or Hunting.” He paused. “Magic. Is it possible for a locating spell?”

“You would need one that was powerful enough to overcome any warding, but yes, it could be possible. You would need something of Dean’s that he holds more dear to him than anything else in the world. Or perhaps something of Castiel’s, but it can be assumed that there is much more warding on the angel.”

“Something of Dean… the Impala. Would that work?”

“One can hope. I’ll be there first thing in the morning.” The line ended and Sam was left alone in the silence. 

**…**

It took almost 24 hours for the poison to wear off on Cas’s body. He had been in so much pain, that he had slipped into a soundless sleep, where Dean’s broken prayers were the only echoing thought in the emptiness of his darkened dreams. There were no pictures, no nightmares, no physical pain in the depths of his sleep, just Dean’s words playing on repeat like a broken record with their names carved on it.

When Cas did wake, the first thing he noticed was that the saliva that had gathered in his mouth could be swallowed with ease and his jaw could move. With a raging migraine, he blinked up at the flickering light, his head searing with pain. His arms were a whole other problem, the skin ripped off in thick strips leaving the burns and muscle and blood to throb as it oozed from his body. He tried desperately to sit up, but he found it near impossible without the strength that his arms failed to give. Instead his mouth formed into the simple syllable and he squeezed his eyes shut preparing himself for the lack of voice that would form from his weak muscle system. 

“Dean?” He opened his eyes, his vision blurry, but the faintest hint of smile. On the other side of the wall, Dean’s head shot up, his eyes wide with excitement, but also the quickly rising fear of all that he had said the day before. 

“Cas? Cas!”

“I’m okay Dean… I’m okay.”

“W-w-what happened?!”

“Poison. It immobilized me, and then  _ it  _ came in… my arms… they’re…” Cas’s voice trembled, tears filling his eyes as the cascade of agony began to run up his arms as he shifted on the concrete. “Dean… I heard- I hear everything.” There was a long, drawled out silence that became more and more patronizing by the second. 

“Shit… Cas I-”

“I love you too.” Cas blurted, a groan escaping after in the fire of nerves in his skin from the bubbling burns. “I have loved you for… a very long time.” Cas’s breath of heavy and labored as he spoke, Dean flinching at the intensity of pain that he could almost feel pulsing through the vent. Dean scooted forward on his knees and laid his hand against the wall. He bit his lip, holding back the smile, holding back the allowance for happiness. All he ever wanted was to hear those words, but he realized, not like this. Not between a wall, with their lives on the line and the pain coursing through his veins causing him to drown in his own suffering sorrows, guilt, and anguish. He shook his head, keeping a stoic expression. He could tell by the silence that Cas was just happy to hear his breath, however restricting Dean's lungs felt in that moment. He sighed at Cas's groans, the angel warding burdening him off the suffering a mortal.

“Cas? I’ll tell you a story.. To pass the time. To ease the pain if I can.” Cas exhaled shakily, nodding his head. “There was a time, when I was really little, that all I ever wanted, was to go to Disney World. I wanted to go so badly and see Mickey Mouse and ride the Pirates of the Carribean boat ride. I begged and begged Dad to take a case in Orlando so that I could go.”

“Did you ever get to?” Cas whispered hoarsely.

“...No. We took a case in Tampa, when Sammy was just a year old, and I was just five. Dad left me in the motel room all day with Sammy, but I was in a funk because I was so close to Disney World. But then the best thing happened. We were sitting on the floor, Sam was crawling around, Cheerios in his chubby fists, singing my name among other unintelligible words and he pulled himself up using a chair. Then he turned around and he took a step. And real slowly, but laughing and babbling, he walked over to my arms. I never thought of Disney World after that. All I could think about was seeing Sammy walk over to me like I was just the brightest thing in the world.” Dean blinked quickly, trying to steer away from an emotional moment that he would’ve called a chick flick moment. 

“It’s no “The first human laugh” story, but it’s my most memorable “first” so to speak.”

“Sam is lucky to have you.” Cas croaked, a smile growing on his lips despite the crippling cries he tried so hard to hide with each wave of affliction. 

“Well I don’t know about that.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“No, I think you two are just so immersed in all the pain and weight of the world that you tend to forget those beautiful moments. One day, you both will reflect on those times together. I certainly don’t have a bond like that. Or many bonds of any kind really, but that is the price for power in the life of an angel.” Dean’s face contorted with rage suddenly as he slammed his hand against the wall.

“Dammit! I fucking told you everything! We have a chance to build that bond and I can’t even see you! All I want to do is-” His voice broke. “I just want to see you.. I just want to hug you. I can’t fucking kiss you!” Dean hollered, punching the concrete and bloodying his knuckles.

“Dean! Please, please, it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Just listen to me, okay? It’s my turn to tell a story.” Dean exhaled, an angry huff that was just a wisp of the roaring winds inside him, blowing the wildfire in his chest across his nervous system in a raging war between the heat of his anger and the coldness of his grief. 

“How can you say that everything will be okay? How can you be so sure?” Cas didn’t answer right away, instead searching the very large depths of his memories for the perfect explanation.

“I remember the way you looked in Hell. You were so broken, but your soul, even with the strain of black that had become intertwined with your essence, was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. I don’t think I fell in love with you in that moment, but I do know that in that moment, while I did not know for sure, my first itch for rebellion broke free from its cage as I broke you free from yours. You fought so ruthlessly against me, fear pillaging your soul as that was all that became of it, yet the demons were still blinded by its light. I was unfamiliar with how to address a human soul, which I think worsened your frantic fear, but I built piece by piece, tore your soul from the torture it got and pried your hands from the torturing they had committed. And when you became whole again… You looked at me, and your soul calmed. As it was the first time that it could remember, it was safe. I gripped you tight and my wings fought against the weight of the demons, but you looked at me with most sincerity of hope and your soul hummed so loudly through the depths of hell, that every demon within a reasonable radius was forced to evacuate my presence. I have so much hope for you, because at some point, in my war with the soldiers of Hell, you had such hpe, such light reflected back at me, that I decided that I would give up everything so that you could one day see what I saw that day.”

**…**

“You have the Impala?” Sam nodded and led Rowena around the warehouse, the shiny and sleek Impala waiting patiently.

“Once I do the spell, the car will take itself to Dean, so you need to be in the car and ready.” Sam nodded, climbing into the front seat, turning on the ignition, letting the engine roar to life with a familiar and welcoming hum. Rowena quickly initiated the spell, her eyes flashing purple, before the engine roared again, but this time, out of Sam’s control. She nodded at him and smiled.

“It’s ready. All you have to do is step on the gas and the car will naturally take itself to Dean. Once in a fifty foot radius the car will stop automatically. Let me know when you find them.”

“Thank you Rowena. I will.” Sam rolled up the window, hit the pedal to the floor and with a cloud of dust, the Impala was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know about that part two! Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy


	5. The Things That Brought Us Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this wraps up the last chapter of the story! This was super fun to write and I want to thank all of you for reading and supporting and the lovely comments! They truly have made this story worth its while! So I hope you enjoy the ending to this little story, and especially enjoy all the desitel!!!
> 
> I thought about doing a small part two that's a one-shot where Cas takes Dean to Disney world for a day, so Dean can have one of his childhood dreams. It would just be them dealing with some PTSD but also a bunch more fluff than this story had. Let me know if you want something like that!
> 
> Enjoy and leave a comment!

**Chapter Five- The Things that Brought Us Here**

“Cas!” Cas was covered in blood, his white dress shirt forever ruined, and a soft blue glow dripped from his mouth. Cas was vomiting up his own grace, mixing with blood and stomach acid creating a pool on the floor that slipped between the cracks of concrete on the floor. He gagged, his skin full of beads of sweat and blood. Dean called out for him, but against the exhaustion, his holler morphed into a raspy cry. 

“I-I-I I’m ok-okay.” Cas responded, struggling to stand. He wiped his mouth, his nose wrinkling at the stench. He glanced around the room, beyond sick of it. He needed to get out. The torturing had thrown out any ability to properly think, but Cas had had enough. He had had enough ages ago, but as he stared up at the vent that separated him from his human, an idea came to mind. “Dean?”

“Cas? What’s wrong.”

“Nothing. I think I have an idea. I know what is doing this to us… and I think I might know a way to escape.” Dean’s eyes shot open a smile growing on his face.

“What do you need me to do Cas?”

“Do you trust me.”  _ Trust.  _ Such a distant term to Dean, never being one to stick with it himself or believe in the empty promises it held. But Dean looked at the wall that Cas was undoubtedly looking at too and nodded.

“ _ Yes. _ ” The sigils in Cas’s room lit up with a blinding intensity as he pulsed power through him, but it did nothing but cause a stinging sensation ripple up his body. His arms raged with pain and he grunted.

“If you stand up on the waste bucket, do you think you could reach the vent? I think that there should be screws holding in the vent. Could you untwist one?” Dean looked to where he had been referring and squinted at the tightly bound screws that held the cover of the vent.

“Maybe. But the bucket…” Dean made a face.

“I know Dean, but you have to trust me. If you can do that, and slip the screw through to me…” Dean nodded and exhaled steadily. He could hear Cas grunt on the other side ass his stomach threatened to spill the blackened mixture of stomach acid and glowing grace. Dean held his breath as he dumped out the waste bucket in the corner of the room, trying his hardest not to gag. Then, he flipped over the bucket and climbed on. If he stood on the tips of his toes, he could reach the screw. He pinched the round metal edge between two of his fingers and started to work the screw out, sometimes using the plastic fork he had gotten for one of his barely sustainable meals. It took him well over an hour, his fingers raw and bloody by the time he got a good grip and loosened the screw from its place. 

“I got it!” Dean exclaimed, jumping off the bucket and smiling towards the wall. Cas stood after waiting patiently for the screw. “Now what?”

“Can you feed it through the vent? If I can get it then maybe I can scratch off the sigils, without something holding my power, I can get us out.” Dean smiled brightly and if he could’ve he would have hugged Cas. The thought hit him in the chest, a sharp pain that made him twitch in anger.

“I can try.” Dean grunted as he stood on the bucket again, stretching himself out the best he could to reach the vent. The slots were small, but could fit the screw in enough. If he dropped it, the plan would have failed, as his fingers could not handle pulling out another screw. He took a deep breath and pushed the screw through the vent, squeezing his eyes shut until he heard it’s soft clatter on the concrete floor. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas whispered, and Dean knew that it had worked. Cas quickly set off, scratching out the paint to disrupt the flow of power that sigils had over him.

“Cas? Earlier, you said you know who was doing this to us. Who is it?” Cas’s arms were filled with writhing pain, but he continued to work. 

“I don’t know who, specifically, but I did get a glimpse of their power. It’s not a demon, Dean. It’s an angel.” Dean growled, kicking the bucket.

“I should’ve known it was one of those dickheads. I’m going to rip out their throats and shred theri grace to nothing! Dean cursed out, spit flying from his mouth. Cas did nothing to calm him as he was thinking the same thing. How could one of his own brothers do this to him? To Dean? But as he thought that, he realized the stupidity in his question. His brothers and sisters were beyond ruthless, beyond cruel. But it explained how they knew the complex sigils meant to target only his grace. And it did explain how they knew the angel anatomy to target and torture Cas the way they did. 

“What I don’t understand, is why?” Cas said finally, counting all the sigils he had yet to do. It would take him at least another three hours. 

“Why does it matter? I’m going to kill them anyway. It’s going to be the best moment of the year.”

“Wow.” Cas huffed out. “What about professing your love for your angel with the same returned feelings?” Cas smiled to himself, his own snarky response surprising himself.

“You're an ass.” Dean shot back a smirk curling on his lips. Cas striked out another sigil.

“Guess I’m just like you, then.” Cas would have been playfully punched if Dean could see him, and the thought made him frown. He was going to get them out, if it was the last thing he did. And knowing the full truth to his own plan, he would be.

**…**

The Impala pulled to a stop at a dirt road where the dead end sign had been bent and graffided this area abandoned. It was an hour or so outside of town. The warehouse that stood before, sand low into the unnatural hillside, the dying grass lifted in its upheaval around the structure deep within the earth. It didn’t look completely unlike the Bunker the way its structure felt unpenatretable. And while Sam was by no means, magical, he could feel the power that radiated off the building, cloaking itself from the rest of the world. Most witches or demons, maybe even that angels wouldn’t be able to come across such a building, its secrets clearly being sealed behind the web of spells that kepts its contents inside. Of course, no magical being was like Rowena, and Sam smiled at the thought. Who knew one of his greatest allies, and dare he say, friend, would be the world’s most powerful witch  _ and  _ queen of hell.

Sam got out, the demon blade practically glued to his hand and his gun with the demon bullets in the other. He was going to get his brother back at whatever the cost.

**…**

By the time Cas was three fourths of the way done, he could feel his strength return to him. He could feel the power pulse with his heartbeat and fire with each nerve. But weeks of torture and being deprived of his grace’s power that feuled him, had still taken it’s toll. In that moment Cas had to choose. He could have used what surviving grace he had to heal himself or save Dean. The latter would always be his choice. He struck through the final symbol that was the most impactful in chaining his grace and singed his already crippled wings, and smiled. He was going to win.

Holding his hand out at the door, his eyes became an electrified blue, like the oceans tsunami’s were letting all hell break loose on the dying land stained in blood. The lighting traveled through his every blood cell, every nerve ending, and every molecule of grace, and within an instant power flooded through him, his emotions controlling the length in which it could be fueled. He raised his hand to the door and with a swipe of his hand the steel door blew from its hinges, flying across the hallway and through the concrete wall. 

“Cas!, Cas, you okay?” Dean hollered from the other side, the sudden, jolting noise, making him flinch with the potential for another round of torture.

“I’m free.” Cas responded. Dean ran to his door, waiting patiently for Cas to come and open it up and free him from his prison. And the second he saw the angel he was going to kiss him, he was going to let himself have what he thought he never could. He was going to look into those ocean eyes that held all the light in the world and reminded him why he was on this earth. He was going to smile and hold him in his arms and feel the warmth and power that angel gave off and Dean was going to laugh with him and hug him and just simply  _ be _ . Cas stood on the other side of the door, trying to throw open Dean’s door, but it wouldn’t budge. With some quick inspection, the symbols that were carved into the steep frame were Enochian and couldn’t be scratched out. 

“ _ Dean… _ ” Cas whispered. He looked at his shaky hands, his bloody arms filled with a writhing agony that Cas knew he couldn’t last long with. He was going to get Dean out, stop the angel and make sure Dean got out. But now, he couldn’t even reach him.

“Cas?”

“The door, it’s… I can’t get through.” Dean’s breath hitched in his throat, his hopes dwindling away as he gulped back the rock in his throat that made it near impossible to speak. Dean instead used his broken nails to pry open the food slot in the door, reaching his hand out as far as it would go. 

“Cas?” Dean whispered, waiting for the angel’s response. But then he felt the skin on skin contact he had been waiting for,  _ dreaming  _ about for ages, and a gentle but well wired hand that intertwined their fingers.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to end this.” Cas said quickly, letting his hand linger, before forcing himself to tear away from Dean’s cell.  _ I’m going to end this _ . It was his only repeating thought as he stormed down the corridor to where the culprit of all his suffering dwelled and he was going to destroy him.

For Dean.

**...**

Sam burst into the bunker styled warehouse, chambers and dim hallways lighting up red with alert as he entered its ancient hospital like corridors, with nothing but concrete and strange doors. It wasn’t long before the floors were being flooded with demons… and leading them, an angel. Twisting the blade between his fingers and his eyes narrow and focused, Sam charged. He didn’t stop to ask questions, just let the blood splatter across the walls and bright orange glows of dying demons illuminate the dimly lit hallway. He was as ruthless as his brother, but in that moment he couldn’t think about that. Dean was in here, somewhere. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

The angel took off, before Sam got a look at who it was, but the small group of demons laid dead on the floor, Sam standing among the bodies, blood and sweat in his hair and clothes. Sam left the demons to rot, and charged through the maze of halls, frantically searching for the angel or his brother, whoever he found first didn’t matter. Instead, he ran into an angel with ripped sleeves, covered in blood, and blackened vile, and burns that were beyond brutal.

“Cas?!” Sam exclaimed, running forward to quickly hug the angel.

“Sam! I didn’t know if you would find us!”

“A little help from Rowena and I was able to finally track you guys down! Where’s Dean?”

“Still trapped, it’s warded against me, I can’t open it.” Cas spat out, frantically glancing around for their captor. Sam nodded and hurried down the hallway towards the set of two doors, one blasted off its hinges and forever stuck in the cracked concrete wall and the other still sealed shut. Cas trailed behind, weakened to a point of apathy, but his eyes still searching the building. Then he heard the scream.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, wasting no time to shoot the lock on the steel door until the metal contraption was dented and He could pry it open. He saw Dean, but he also saw the gleam of a blade as it was plunged into his brother, blood seeping from the wound, and following the blade as it was pulled from him. Dean’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as his hand fell to his side, exhaustion and pain overwhelming him until he couldn’t hold it anymore. Cas watched from behind as the man he loved began to die right before his eyes.  _ No _ . He would not let this happen. Cas surged into the room, pulled the other angel up by it’s shirt and slammed him into the wall, the concrete crumbling around the vessel. His eyes lit up with a bolting blue glowering at the thing that had taken away his happiness, his hope, his untold stories.

“Have you any idea what you’ve done!? What _I’m going to_ _do to you_?!” Cas boomed, his voice a violent growl. The angel smiled.

“You fell from heaven because of this man. You ruined everything for the future of heaven, the angels, you killed and destroyed. I only thought that this was a fair way to return the favor. It turns out that there are some demons that agreed. And with that, we designed those rooms for you and that filthy human. I-” The angel didn’t get his next sentence out, because Cas pressed his hand to his forehead and with a light that almost blinded Sam, killed the angel in a lasting agony of burns as it’s body slid to the floor with a sickening scream. Cas exhaled, his face contorted and red with rage. He wanted to stab the angel again and again, until he was numb inside, but Sam redirected his attention back to Dean.

“...Cas?” Dean choked out, his eyes still closed as he called out to his angel. Sam ripped his shirt using it to hold the wound steady, keeping the blood inside. Cas held onto Dean’s shoulders and with a weak pulse of grace, Cas tried to heal Dean’s wounds. It didn’t work entirely as his strength had been used up to kill the other angel, of which Cas didn’t even know his name. But he had done enough to keep Dean from bleeding out.

‘Let’s get you guys home.” Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders, heaving him from the ground and hurrying him out to the Impala. Cas began to follow, but as he took his first step to freedom, darkness overcame him as his eyes slid shut and he plummeted towards the earth.

Sam whipped around after placing Dean in the back seat, and shouted for Cas who had blacked out from exhaustion. Heaving him too off the ground, Sam carried Cas back to the car, resting him in the back seat. Upon realizing that Dean would have to lay his head in Cas’s lap, he almost brought Cas up front, but he too was beyond tired, and the drive back home would be excruciating. He would just have to let himself hear it from his brother later. Sam started the car and within a matter of minutes, he was speeding down the back roads towards the Bunker.

**...**

__

It was nearly midnight and five hours in the car when Cas finally awoke, his head slouched back and a warmth in his lap. He blinked several times getting used to the glares from the headlights and car’s radio playing softly, before looking down. Dean stared up at him, breathing roughly as his wound would still take weeks to fully heal even with the little help from Cas. Cas smiled softly despite his pain, and ran his fingers through Dean’s oily hair.

“I can see you Dean.” Cas whispered hoarsely. He coughed and blood surfaced on the edge of his lip, but gave a weak smile at Dean's green eyes. Their fingers intertwined slowly, holding each other in the most simple way possible.

“I can see you too Cas.” Dean sent him a gentle smile back before their eyes slid shut and they passed out in the back seat of the Impala for the rest of the ride home.

**...**

Sam, finally satisfied with his patchwork job on the wounds that both Cas and Dean suffice, emerged in the Bunker’s main room, but barely made it to the map table, and instead sat down on the stairs. Rowena had come in and cleaned up the rest of the magic that had cursed them, but with most of the wounds well on their way to a long but steady healing process, her job was done. Sam ran his hand through his hair finally giving himself the chance to breathe a sigh of relief.

“How are they?” Rowena whispered, setting her bag of hex material on the map table. 

“Exhausted. Cas is so drained he can barely walk to his own room, so he’s still in Deans’.” Rowena raised an eyebrow, a scoff escaping as she carefully hid her smile. Sam cocked his head, a movement that made the smile break out on her face.

“You’re sure exhaustion is why he doesn’t want to go to his room?” Her amused expression waited patiently for Sam to catch her drift. Sam nodded his head and stood, sluggishly heading towards the chair next to Rowena. He tried to suppress a grin and answer with a more modest answer than the obvious that was screaming in his head.

“I think more than anything there was an emotional trauma to what they went through. I wonder if it finally cracked them.” Rowena sat on the edge of the map table, crossing her ankles and resting her hands in her lap. A small smirk hinted on her lips, she nodded.

“I think they realized finally, that one cannot live without the other. They balance each other out. At this, Sam nearly choked, as he threw his head back with a chuckle.

“Balance each other? Dean’s stubborn, and Cas is double stubborn. That’s not-”

“I  _ mean _ , Dean doesn’t believe in hope and Castiel is the actual representation of hope. Castiel takes the world a little too seriously, and Dean treats it as some sick comedy. Cas has more compassion than any being I ever met, and Dean has not felt compassion much in his life. A balance you see.” They fell silent, the gentle hum of magic and machines that brought the bunker to life playing with their thoughts softly as their minds drifted off to the tumble of events that brought Dean and Cas to this moment.

**…**

Dean felt his abdomen erupt into a fire of pain, and immediately sat up, frantically scanning the room waiting for the dull concrete to stare back at him and the hardness of the floor to make his aging bones ache. But it was not the coldness of the room that met him, it was the warmth and familiarity of his own room. It was the softness of his own bed. It was the warm being next to him, and while that was new, it was comforting. Dean gripped his side, lifting his shirt to see the stab wound nicely patched up, but the faint spot of blood forming somewhere deep under the mountain of gauze. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the thick wool blanket to cover him better as the cold nights of the room would never lessen its grip on Dean’s soul. He leaned against the headboard, breathing deeply, trying to self soothe the throbbing in his gut. He glanced at the sleeping figure, while he was on top of the blankets, he had a light sheet thrown around his torso.

“Cas?” Dean whispered softly. He knew he should’ve let Cas sleep, the angel was probably beyond exhausted, but Dean couldn’t help but be selfish for a moment, just so he could see those beautiful ocean eyes that pierced through him and greet the waves like the tide met the shore.

“Hmm… Dean?” Cas lighted his head from the mattress groggily. “Oh, you’re awake. How are you feeling Dean?” He asked, rising slightly, realizing he was sleeping on Dean’s bed and he wasn’t sure what the hunter thought of that. But then he lingered, realizing the words that were spoken between them and that in the normal world, people who loved each other normally shared a bed. At least that much Cas knew.

“I’m fi- I’ll be okay Cas.” Dean helped Cas up to lean against the headboard next to him. Dean took the time to take him in. The slight dimple in his cheek, the way his jawline curved perfectly, and the way his stubble grew in just a little bit more than usual. He took in his eyelashes that laid against his cheeks everytime he blinked slowly, and he focused on the wild raven hair that refused to be tamed. 

“How are your arms Cas?” Dean asked, feeling nauseous at the stare of them from the brief moment he saw the pus and burns and blood that poured from the spiral wounds. Cas lifted his right arm, wincing as he did so. The gauze was wrapped around his arms tightly, running from his fingertips to his shoulder blades. “Shit Cas. This- this is-” Dean was cut off by Cas grabbing his hand intertwining their fingers.

“I’ll be okay Dean.” Cas responded, a patient and warm smile forming on his lips. Dean glanced at their hands, a sense of warmth filling his insides and scaring away the cold emptiness for the time being. Dean sat up slightly, turning his head to face Cas.

“There’s no wall dividing us now Dean.” That was all he needed to hear as he leaned forward and their lips met. It was by no means perfect, fear intertwined with their giddy feelings towards each other and the power that radiated off Cas’s grace and the compassion of the human soul that created almost a halo around them. Dean kissed him like it would be the last thing he ever did, and Cas kissed him like it was the beginning of something new, something he was prepared to sacrifice everything for. The sigils that had held him down in the room shattered and concrete that separated them crumbled into bits of dust. Dean ran his hands through Cas’s hair, pulling him closer. It was so easy to fall into the rabbit hole of Cas’s movements, simple and pure, as he smiled against his lips, his hands traveling down Dean’s back, holding him with all the hope and light that he could manage to have. And in the moment, there was a little more hope.

Cas was the first to pull away, reluctantly so, but exhaustion had set in far beyond his control. Dean grinned, his eyes running up and down Cas as if to check and see that he was real. Dean kissed him again just to be sure, just a quick peck, because he simply allowed himself too. So many things had brought them into that moment and he wasn’t going to let it slip by. But Cas stifled a yawn, his brutal battle with the demons running his Grace supply dry until he could recharge. He leaned forward, pressing his nose to Dean’s, letting their breaths mix and linger in the air as the warmth that surrounded him. Slowly, Dean pulled both of them into the cocoon of blankets, letting their legs slide together, never once pulling away from the gentle pulse of Cas’s heart. Cas settled on Dean’s chest, and while his arms were positioned slightly awkwardly to prevent further harm, Dean held him into his side, letting every molecule that made up Cas’s being collide with his. Cas sighed, but found it difficult to sleep despite the heaviness of his muscles, and Dean found himself so lulled by the moment that he could comprehend the exhaustion that had begun to manifest. He kissed the top of Cas’s hair, mumbling something incoherent and rested his chin on his head. He sighed contently, for the first time in what seemed like forever, and spoke.

“Tell me a story, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yo so much for reading! Until next time,   
> -Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy


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